“Where do we find them?” Jenny asked, knowing full well before she spoke.
“Where else? My Master’s abode,” A.l.v.i.s said. “You must send someone to the Valley of Shadow. To my Master’s edifice. I will provide detailed instructions on where to find the journals.”
“All well and good,” Tesla said. “Except there’s no guarantee whoever we send will make it out again.”
“True enough, sir,” A.l.v.i.s chirped. “But if I may be so frank, what other option do you have?”
Jenny tenderly placed her hand on her husband’s wooden arm. “No choice at all,” she said.
CHAPTER SIX
Geronimo felt as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. With Blade and Hickok at death’s door, he was senior Warrior.
He had called a meeting of the Triads. They were to gather on the west rampart above the drawbridge at noon. It was a few minutes till, and the last of the Family’s defenders were coming up the ramp.
Normally, there were six Triads made up of three Warriors each. But a a vicious clash with a reptilian shapeshifter a while ago had reduced their ranks drastically, from eighteen to fourteen. Now, with Blade, Hickok and Yama stricken, they were down to eleven.
Geronimo cleared his throat. “Everyone get settled. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Do we ever,” said a Warrior who had chosen the name Spartacus.
To Geronimo’s right stood Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Of Asian lineage and small in stature, he was the Family’s preeminent martial artist and next in succession should Geronimo be slain. Slung across his back was his ever-present katana. “As I am sure all of you can appreciate,” he remarked, “the situation is dire.”
Several Warriors grimly nodded.
“We’re losing so many,” Shane said, a pearl-handled pistol high on his hip.
“Don’t count Blade, Hickok and Yama out yet,” a black woman called Bertha declared. “They’re tough as anything.”
Geronimo surveyed the rest of them, gauging their expressions. There was Teucer, whose preferred weapon was a bow. Ares, who wore his hair in a mohawk. Lynx and Gremlin, hybrids brought into being through genetic engineering. Samson, the strongest of them next to Blade. And finally Sherry, Hickok’s wife.
Every eye was on Geronimo as he said, “First things first. We can’t adequately defend the Home with only eleven of us.”
“Which is why he and I propose speeding up the selection process for the three trainees,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi said.
“Are any of them ready?” Spartacus asked.
“We’ll return to them in a bit,” Geronimo said. “Of equal concern, as all of you are well aware, is doing what we can to save Blade, Hickok and Yama.”
“Glad to hear you say that,” Sherry said dryly.
“Our chief Scientist tells me there is a chance we can,” Geronimo continued. “It involves great risk, and would further cut our numbers.”
“Define ‘great’,” Lynx growled.
“It means making a run to the Valley of Shadow,” Geronimo enlightened them. “To the Tower.”
Bertha had been leaning against a rail. Now she straightened sharply. “The hell you say. Thanatos’s place?”
Glances were exchanged. Ares ran a hand across his Mohawk and remarked, “We never get a break, do we?”
“It’s like this,” Geronimo said. “A.l.v.i.s claims there’s a cure for whatever has laid our friends low. All we have to do is find the records Thanatos kept of his experiments.”
“Is that all?” Spartacus said.
“As Hickok would say,” Shane said, grinning, “Piece of cake.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?” Shane said.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi spoke up. “A run like that, we’d have to send at least three Warriors. Any less, and the odds of them making it back....” He stopped and shook his head.
“We hear that,” Teucer said.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi went on. “Unfortunately, that would leave eight Warriors to protect the Family. And eight isn’t nearly enough. We’d have to pull double shifts on wall duty. Should the Home be attacked by a force of any size....” Again he stopped and shook his head.
Geronimo said. “We have to do what we can to save our friends.”
“At that great a risk to the the entire Family?” Spartacus said. “Not on your life. I want to help as much as anyone but that would leave the Home too vulnerable.”
“We haven’t been attacked in months,” Geronimo reminded him. In the early days, the years right after the Big Blast, assaults had been more frequent.
“It only takes one,” Spartacus said, “by a vastly superior force.”
“Who were you thinking of sending on the run to the Valley of Shadow?” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi wanted to know.
“Myself....,” Geronimo began, and got not further.
“Not on your life,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi said. “You’re in charge now. The head Warrior. You’re needed here. I’ll go in your stead with whoever else you pick.”
“You can handle things here as well as I could,” Geronimo said. “I have no compunctions about leaving you in charge.”
“You’re letting your emotions get the better of you,” Rikki said. “The Family’s welfare comes before all else.”
“Hear, hear,” Spartacus said, and others nodded.
Mildly resentful that his decision was being challenged, Geronimo said, “As you pointed out, it’s my call. I was thinking of taking Samson and Shane.” His reasoning being that they might need Samson’s great strength, and Shane because he was almost as quick as Hickok with that pearl-handled revolver of his.
“I reiterate,” Rikki said. “I’m against it.”
“Me too,” Spartacus said. “We should take a vote. Show of hands. Who here thinks it’s a mistake to deplete our ranks even more?” He raised an arm.
So did Ares, Gremlin, Lynx, Teucer, and Bertha.
“You see?” Spartacus said. “Over half of us.”
“It’s my decision,” Geronimo said indignantly. “I don’t see any way around it. Some of us have to go to save our friends. End of discussion.”
Several voices were raised at once but fell silent when Sherry practically shouted, “Enough! The last thing we need is all this bickering. If you’ll permit me, I believe I have a solution that will be acceptable to everybody.”
“Say what’s on your mind, sister,” Bertha said.
“Hold on,” Shane said. “You two aren’t related.”
Bertha let out a snort. “Hush, pup. Let the lady speak.”
Sherry looked at Geronimo. “We have to act and we have to act quickly. Tesla told me that he doesn’t know exactly how much time we have, but each hour, each and every minute, brings my man and the others closer to death’s door.”
Geronimo already knew that. “Go on.”
“You’re right in that we have to send someone to the Valley of Shadow. But Rikki and Spartacus are right, too, in that if we send three Warriors, there won’t be enough of us left to ensure we can safeguard the Home. So I propose we only send one Warrior.....”
“Just one?” Samson interrupted.
“Do you realize the odds of him or her making it back?” Spartacus said.
Geronimo, too, considered the idea preposterous. The perils of the wasteland were as numberless as the stars.
“I wasn’t done,” Sherry said. “We send one Warrior—-and the three trainees.”
Geronimo’s initial reaction was to tell her to forget it. Yes, three young Family members—- none of them out of their teens—-were in training to become full-fledged Warriors. The training was intense, deliberately so, but not one of them, in his estimation, was ready to assume the mantle and the responsibilities of a Warrior.
Some of the others, clearly as skeptical, went to comment but Sherry held up a hand.
“Hear me out. Please. We have to send someone. We can’t just let Blade and the others die. I’m not saying that just because one of them is my hu
sband. We would do the same for any of us. But for the welfare of the Family, it’s obvious we can’t spare three active-duty Warriors. We’re stretched too thin. One, though, we can spare.”
Everyone was listening attentively.
“Since one isn’t enough, we send the three trainees as backup.” Sherry glanced around. “I know what some of you are thinking. The trainees don’t have enough experience. This run is how they can get it. Out there in the real world, the warped world, the toxic, blasted, deadly world that we have all gone out into at one time or another, they’ll learn just like we did. Through experience. And if they make it back, it will show they’re ready to be admitted to our ranks.”
“You want to throw three green kids to the sharks?” Lynx growled.
“You’re don’t like the idea?” Sherry asked.
“On the contrary,” Lynx said. “I like it very much. Survival of the fittest. It’s how I learned.”
“The forge of battle,” Teucer said. “The anvil of necessity.”
“Huh?” Shane said.
“How many of you like the idea?” Sherry said.
Heads bobbed in agreement. Several smiled.
“What about you?” Sherry said to Geronimo. “You have the final say.”
Geronimo had been mulling it over while she talked. “Given our situation,” he replied, “I think you’ve come up with the best solution. Except for one thing. I won’t order the trainees to go. I won’t throw them to the sharks, as Spartacus put it. It has to be their decision.”
“Sounds fair,” Ares said.
More nods from nearly everyone, and then Shane said, “But which of us goes with them?”
As much as Geronimo would like it to be him, the others were right. He was head Warrior now. His first duty was to the Family. “Since it can’t be me, it should be someone who has been a Warrior almost as long as I have. Someone we can completely rely on. One of the best of us. One of the wisest. One of the deadliest.”
Everyone looked at Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Family’s Armory in A Block lived up to its name. Weapons lined every wall. Dozens of cabinets and cases housed more. Even the ceiling was used. From imbedded hooks hung razor whips, blowguns, nunchaku and others.
At the front was a small office. An inventory of all their weapons was kept on file, along with manuals and books from before the Big Blast on how to do everything from disassemble various firearms to how to hone an edged blade until it was razor sharp.
Sparsely furnished, the furniture consisted of a desk and two chairs. As a result, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi stood in a corner with his arms folded while Geronimo sat tapping his fingers on the tomahawk he had slid from under his belt and placed on the desk when he sat down.
Rikki could tell his friend was troubled. Small wonder, given the challenge they faced, and the cost to the Family if they failed. “You made the right decision.”
“It should be me going,” Geronimo said.
“We’ve been through that,” Rikki said. “Don’t you trust me to lead the run?”
“There is no one I trust more,” Geronimo said. “But this is the Valley of Shadow we’re talking about. And it will just be you and the apprentices.”
“Yea, though I walk,” Rikki quoted, and smiled.
Geronimo leaned back, his chair squeaking loudly. “The times Alpha Triad went there, we were lucky to make it out alive.”
“Cup full,” Rikki said.
Chuckling, Geronimo said, “You always do tend to look at the bright side of things.”
Rikki shrugged. He had learned at an early age that to always be critical and negative about everything and everyone was immature. Besides, true warriors didn’t whine. They took what life threw at them and met it the best they could.
A sound from out past the open door drew their attention to a figure approaching.
“I’ve set up the interviews one after the other,” Geronimo mentioned, “half an hour apart. Should be more than enough time to lay it out to each of them.”
“Kanto first, I see,” Rikki observed.
“You sponsored him to become a Warrior,” Geronimo said. “He shows a lot of promise.”
Rikki didn’t say anything. ‘Promise’ was no guarantee a prospective candidate would pass muster. All the training in the world was no substitute for actual combat. The proof, to paraphrase another old saying, was in the bloodletting.
A tall young man stopped in the doorway, gave a slight bow, and said, “May I?” He wore an outfit fashioned for him by the Family Weavers based on his specifications. Dark purple, with flowing sleeves and loose-fitting pants, it was trimmed with yellow at the throat. His black hair hung in thick curls to his shoulders.
Geronimo indicated the empty chair in front of the desk. “By all means. Thank you for coming.”
“When a Warrior is summoned, a Warrior obeys,” Kanto said as he crossed to the chair and lightly sank down, his every movement unusually fluid. He smiled at Rikki. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir. Why have you sent for me, if I may ask?”
Rikki gestured. “Geronimo did. He’s head Warrior now.”
“Not by choice,” Geronimo said.
“We are all of us praying for Blade and the others,” Kanto said. He possessed a deep, mellifluous voice. “May the Spirit preserve them.”
Rikki could tell Geronimo was deeply disturbed by the mention of their plight. “To the matter at hand. It’s not common knowledge yet, but our chief scientist thinks there’s a chance they can be saved.”
Geronimo took up the explanation. “It involves sending Warriors to the last place I’d ever want to send anyone.” He paused. “The Valley of Shadow.”
“I’ve read the Chronicler’s account of the Family’s battle with Thanatos,” Kanto said. “He was a formidable enemy.”
“None more so,” Geronimo said. Opening a drawer, he took out a manila folder. “Let’s review your background before we get to the run.” He opened the folder and ran a finger down the first page. “You’re seventeen years old. Genealogy, Italian. Given name, Caesar Cardinale. A year ago, at your Naming ceremony, you chose Kanto.” Geronimo looked up. “Why?”
Kanto acted surprised by the question. “Our Founder started the practice. I was following tradition. Most pick names from history, like you did, as a way to keep in touch with the past.”
“No,” Geronimo said. “I meant, why did you pick the name ‘Kanto’? I chose mine because there is Apache blood in my lineage. Blade chose his because he likes big knives. Rikki, there, picked the name of a mongoose.”
“A what?” Kanto said.
“A small animal, like a weasel or a ferret,” Geronimo explained, and motioned at Rikki. “You tell him.”
“It’s from a story by a man named Rudyard Kipling,” Rikki said. “About a mongoose that comes to live with a human family and protects them from poisonous snakes.”
“Ah,” Kanto said, smiling. “The mongoose was a protector.”
“So why Kanto?” Geronimo persisted. “What does the name mean to you?”
Rikki was curious, too. It would give them insight into the younger man’s personality. His frame of mind, as it were.
“Well,” Kanto slowly began, “all my life I’ve heard about Italy and what it means to be Italian. From my parents. To be honest, I didn’t much care when I was little. For all we know, Italy no longer exists. A lot of countries don’t.”
“How does that tie in with your name?” Geronimo said.
“My parents were always giving me books from the library,” Kanto continued. “About Italy and it’s history. One of them had to do with the assassini from way back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.”
“The what?”
“Assassins,” Kanto said. “A special kind. They were courtly. Worldly. They dressed well, ate well. Killed well. To them, assassination was a craft.” He grinned warmly at the remembrance. “An art, you might say. And they were artists at it.”
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br /> “Assassins?” Geronimo repeated.
“Does that matter?” Kanto said.
“You admire professional killers. And you want to be a Warrior?”
Kanto appeared confused by the question. “Isn’t that what the Warriors do? Kill?”
“To defend the Family and the Home,” Geronimo said.
“Of course,” Kanto said. “But I remember Yama saying once that when you get right down to it, Warriors are death-dealers. Exactly like the assassini.”
“Yama has always been fascinated by death,” Geronimo said. “Which is neither here nor there.” He glanced at the file. “Was Kanto the name of one of those assassins you admire?”
“No. In Italian, it means ‘I sing’,” Kanto said. “I love to sing. My mother was always teaching me new songs. In Italian, of course. She wanted me to keep the language alive.” He smiled. “I also love a painting I saw in an art book. A painting called ‘I sing of death’. So I thought, if dealing death is to be my profession, why not sing of it with my very name?”
Rikki almost laughed at the expression on Geronimo’s face.
“Is something wrong?” Kanto said.
“Just when you think you’ve heard everything under the sun,” Geronimo said.
Kanto said. “I can change my name if you don’t like it. I’ll do anything to become a Warrior.”
“No, you’re name is fine,” Geronimo said a trifle dubiously. He turned a page, and coughed. “It says here you’re proficient in the martial arts....”
“Fairly so, thanks to Rikki,” Kanto said.
“....and you’ve earned exceptionally high grades with knives and swords,” Geronimo noted. “In particular, you are superb with stilettos.”
“I worked very hard to become so,” Kanto said.
Geronimo bent closer to the file. “Plus you scored highly in marksmanship. You have a knack with SMG’s.”
“He has great hand-to-eye coordination,” Rikki deemed it appropriate to point out.
Geronimo closed the folder and thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the desk. “All right. You have skills enough. How would you like to put them to the ultimate test? I’ll assign you to go with Rikki on the run to the Valley of Shadow, but only if you want to. You must volunteer.”
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